To Heal The Soul
by LieSmithsMistress
Summary: They say that stitches can only heal so much, I beg to differ... **Sensitive material - Suicide attempt Student/Teacher relationship** **Rated M for later chapters**
1. Stein's Worst Discovery?

**sensitive material - suicide attempt - student/teacher relationship**

Author's P.O.V.

It was one of the rare days that Dr Stein had to do whatever he pleased. He wasn't teaching and he didn't have any reports to fill out for Lord Death; he'd even finished his last set of experiments and was waiting for a new theory to grip his curiosity.

It was a rare day indeed, in the fact that Spirit couldn't remember a time he had willing gone to the Patchwork Laboratory to visit the genius within; he usually hid at every opportunity until the dark shadow of his previous Meister had long since gone. But there he was, hand raised to knock on the stitched doors as they swung forward, the owner gesturing for Spirit to enter.

The DeathScythe didn't question, he knew the scientist would have felt his soul wavelength before he got to the door. This was a visit he needed, not for himself but for his daughter.

Her friends were at a loss, Maka had grown distant, she couldn't resonate with Soul effectively and had drained her body in a single training practice without a thought. There was no question that she was on a destructive path but no-one could get through to her, find out her problems, help her. He was here to seek help from his... friend? Yes. After the last few years Stein had definitely done more than enough to earn that.

The scientist cleared his throat, seizing the scythe from his thoughts and held his usual blank expression. He took in the sight of his former weapon; his clothes were creased, a six o'clock shadow forming and his eyes were lined with shadows and wrinkles that weren't there the last time they spoke.

"Sempai? Is something troubling you?" He allowed a slight hint of concern weigh into his words, enough for the weapons eyes to water slightly.

"It's Maka. Don't tell me you haven't noticed anything strange." The older man's face hardened slightly; almost as if he was daring the younger to contradict him.

"You're right, I have, but I don't understand why you're here." Stein tilted his head, the light glinting off them so the gold-green irises could be seen, so his concern and curiosity were visible.

"I want you to see if you can help her, find out what's wrong so that we can sort this all out and have her back. She won't talk to anyone. Stein, please, she's my daughter. She's all I have left." A single tear made it's way slowly down the Death Weapon's face and the Meister said nothing, just nodded, straightened out his lab coat and headed for the door.

It was the weekend so naturally the students were out in the city, Maka's group would either be at home or at the basketball courts playing for silly bets. He decided to try Soul's apartment first, if Maka was distancing herself then she wouldn't be at the courts. As he walked thoughts danced through his head; why was she distancing herself? What happened to make her so destructive? She was always bluntly open and even when she wasn't it was all written across her face. You could read her life in her eyes and the crease of her mouth.

Reaching the door, he put out the cigarette that he had been unconsciously smoking and knocked on the door gently. His hand had barely drawn back when the door opened to reveal the white-haired weapon that was Soul Eater Evans, the weapon partner to the girl in question. Soul looked pale, even by his standards, but stepped back to allow the good doctor entrance.

"I take it you know why I'm here?" The scythe nodded.

"Spirit told me he was going to ask for your help." Stood here, Stein could see the toll this had taken on the young man. His eyes were dull, skin was pale and a tread pattern had been worn into the carpeting from pacing.

"Where is Maka?" Franken straightened slightly and looked round. Soul pointed a thumb towards a back room before putting his hands back in his pocket.

"Bathroom." The teacher nodded, motioning for the student to remain in the lounge whilst he spoke to the little Meister.

As he stood outside the bathroom he realised that he was at a loss as to what he was going to do. He didn't know what she was doing in there and didn't want to barge in at a moment that could be embarrassing for the pair of them. He decided to knock and go from there.

Raising his hand he rapped lightly on the white glossed door but received no answer. The doctor repeated this twice but earned the same results. He wasn't even sure she was in there until his soul perception confirmed the scythe's statement; Maka was indeed in the bathroom. Yes, her soul was there, weak but it was- wait. Weak? But that only happens- dots started connecting in Stein's brain and before he knew it the door was no longer an obstacle.

The scene before him was enough for the professor to stop and stare. Painkiller sleeves littered the side and the floor; the centre of which was occupied by a small figure, blonde hair allayed around her, eyes closed, shallow breaths and a fluttering soul wavelength. Rolling her onto her back, he could see the slight red stain on her shirt cuffs and the tears that were still wet on her face.

Lifting the frail girl up into his arms he ran towards the DWMA infirmary; placing her on a bed before finding the medication and equipment needed to pump her stomach. Stein opened the girls airways and inserted a plastic tube down into her stomach and administered saline through it, keeping a suction device close by in case of vomiting. After removing the majority of the offensive substance, the doctor poured a liquid charcoal mixture down the tube to help negate the effects of the remaining drugs. All he could do now was clean her wrists and wait.

Stein's P.O.V.

My mind replayed the horrific scene. It was nothing I hadn't seen before but the fact that it was a student I was very much fond of was the worst part. Why didn't I see any of this sooner? I should have acted or at least tried to talk to her. And now there was nothing to do but wait.

AN/ Comments make me write faster :)


	2. Maka's Broken Mind

Stein's P.O.V.

It had been 4 hours since the procedure and the waiting was killing me; the guilt started gnawing in my head. I had seen and done nothing, thinking that she was mature enough to seek help if she needed it and now it seemed that she may have been to scared to do anything. What really hurt was that Maka thought that suicide was the answer; that pills and razorblades could heal wounds in her head, that self-destruction could help everyone. My brow furrowed at this thought. Did she think of the consequences to everyone around her? Did Maka ever stop and think of what it would do to her friends, her father, classmates and teachers, her partner?

I sighed. There was nothing I could do at the moment but check on her stats and IV; sitting on the edge of the bed and inspecting the clear, colourless fluid in the suspended bag. That seemed fine so I went to check her temperature but the thermometer seemed to have grown legs and run off. My hands were always too cold to be used as comparison and using my lips seemed perverse so I settled for pressing my cheek against her forehead; it was clammy but of an acceptable temperature. I went to move back to a sitting position, but before I could Maka rolled over to her side, her small hand covered my own as her face scrunched up. In an effort to sit up I moved my hand towards me, effectively placing it next to her hip as I gently moved my hand from underneath hers.

That was a lot closer than I should have got but my skin still burned from where Maka's skin had come into contact with mine, the nerves tingling and my heart rate increased with my breathing. This was dangerous. I couldn't do this. I stood, turned to try to find something to occupy my mind other than the girl laid out, unconscious, on the bed in front of me.

Maka's P.O.V.

I'm falling through red lights, a sound almost like feedback from a speaker deafens me and rattles my head. There's pain radiating from my stomach and a tightening of my throat, like hands pulling my lungs out into my mouth and then the pain dissipates into nothingness. I'm drifting in and out of semi-consciousness; I can hear the scratching of pen on paper and the breathing of other people, I can smell the disinfectant that was used in the academy's infirmary; the tangy bitter smell that burns the throat and nose.

My head swam, thick and heavy from the drugs I had taken and I had a thick, bitter taste in my mouth. My body felt cold. So, so cold. I tried opening my eyes but they seemed to be glued shut. My muscles screamed in protest of my lack of movement and cold hands drifted down my neck and my wrists, brushing my hair back from my face; a warm cheek against my forehead. I leant into the warmth radiating from this person, needed to feel some sort of heat. Rolling over my hand found another, gripped it slightly to try keep it there as both heat and support, so I knew I wasn't alone. I felt my face frown as my stomach churned in an unpleasant way, not painful just weird. The person moved, they're hand touching my hip before they slid their hand from mine. I made a small noise, almost like a whine, in annoyance. Why couldn't they has stayed there? I felt safe when there was contact. Footsteps led away from me and I was alone again. My head put the pieces together and i realised who it was that had made me feel so safe not moments before, then the darkness engulfed me once again.

The next thing my head registered was that someone was holding my hand, hands that were far less calloused than the one I had grasped earlier. Warmth rolled down my fingertips as I felt my father cry against my fist, whispering about how he failed me and how my mother would have known what to do and how all he wanted was to see my eyes open again and, and, and. I cringed inwardly, wanting to cry but knowing I couldn't. My eyelids fluttered and I became acutely aware of the respiratory tube down my throat, gagging on it as I opened my eyes. My father was pushed away from me as Professor Stein gently removed the offending instrument from my trachea allowing me to breathe properly.

My body felt weak as I gingerly tensed my muscles in an attempt to sit up before cold, calloused hands pushed down on my shoulders, forcing me back into lying down again.

"Easy now, Maka, you gave us quite a scare there. That was not something I wanted to witness -" At his words I let the floodgates collapse and the well of tears to flow freely down my cheeks as I used what little energy I had to roll away from the prying eyes of my papa and my teacher.

A few whispered words and I felt my papa's soul presence leave the room as the bed sunk under the wait of the Meister sitting next to me. A sigh was emitted before he spoke.

"32 sleeves. Soul cleaned up the bathroom after I brought you here. 32 packs of 8. That's 256 pills. There's only one reason why someone would take that many tablets and I sincerely hope that wasn't your intention." I felt my hair being moved back from my face and I was moved into a seated position, tears still streaming from my eyes, chest heaving slightly; the scent of nicotine and caffeine was subtle yet familiar.

Feeling an overwhelming need to hide my face, ashamed of what I had done, of the pain I had caused, I reached out blindly and grabbed on the edges of the white, stitched lab coat; burying my head into the chest of my tutor, aware of what I was doing.

'Damned be the consequences,' I thought, 'I don't want to think or hurt. I just want to disappear.'

"Life would be better if I weren't here." The bitterness seeped into my voice and I hid in the folds of the coat grasped between my fingers.

"What do you mean?" A hand travelled round to rest on my left scapula, applying a gentle pressure.

"After everything that has happened, all I ever seem to do is screw things up. I just want to see Mama again, I just want to disappear from here."


	3. Maka's Jumbled Thoughts

To Heal The Soul - Chapter 3

Stein's P.O.V.

"After everything that has happened, all I ever seem to do is screw things up. I just want to see Mama again, I just want to disappear from here."

The statement that Maka had just made caused me to tense up, the tension of anger and sadness. She seemed to think she was worthless and that she did nothing but cause problems. It was as if she couldn't see herself properly, like looking at herself through frosted glass. She couldn't see what a beautiful girl she was; bright smile, pale, flawless skin, legs that any man could appreciate and the confidence to assert herself both with her classmates and even her verbal sparring with me.

Why couldn't she see all this? I peeled the young girl from my chest, my hands on her shoulders whilst hers were still entangled in the lapels of my coat. Her head hung down, blonde hair obscuring any view of her face, as I placed two fingers under her chin to meet her olive green eyes to my silver blue ones.

"You are not worthless, nor are you a nuisance. You're a pretty, bright young woman with friends who love you, a father who would kill and die for you and people around who are willing to help you and have your back at a moments notice. You really can't see yourself properly, can you?" Maka sniffed and shook her chin from my grasp, she couldn't look me in the eye at all. I sighed, resting my forehead against hers so she would have no choice but to look at me, my voice barely a whisper as I spoke.

"You really think so little of yourself?" Her breath brushed across my lips as I spoke, the sensation leaving a trail across my skin that tingled and burned. Maka's breathing rate increased, her skin became flushed, her body trembled as the adrenaline rushed through her bloodstream and the pulse in the crook of her neck increased. "You can't see the way the girls want to be you or that no-one has a bad word to say about you? You don't see how proud I am to have you as my student, that I know that one day you could beat me in a fight? You're strong, Maka, stronger than this and it breaks Soul's and Spirit's heart; it breaks mine too if I'm completely honest."

I felt a sudden intake of breath at my last statement and I wondered if I had said too much.I moved back, muttering my apologies, but was stopped by the small hands that still had a fierce grip on my jacket which pulled me back to the position I was in before.

There was no way I could have predicted what would happen next.

Maka's P.O.V.

Stein leaned into me, forehead resting on my own and I grew warm. Not a pleasant warmth that you get from sitting near the fireplace, but a burning heat that spread through my body. I felt like his eyes were staring right into my soul as he has done on so many occasions, like he could read my mind on a whim, it was breathtaking and it scared me. It terrified me to think that I would do anything for him just to have him look at me like that once more. His words washed over me, shivers running delicately down my spine, my heart rate increased as I became overwhelmed by the adrenaline that was being dripped into my veins.

"You're strong, Maka, stronger than this and it breaks Soul's and Spirit's heart; it breaks mine too if I'm completely honest." It - but - No, he didn't mean it that way, who would ever mean it like that? Or did he? I couldn't deny now that I admired the man in front of me, nor could I deny that the admiration went maybe a little too far. He was tall and handsome in his own right. The stitches would have put most people off but they were an inherent part of him. From the time I had spent crying into the stitched woollen jumper I had felt the toned muscles of his abdomen and chest and when he had held me for those few moments, I had never felt safer in my life.

Stein moved away whispering apologies and regrets and the thought of him leaving me threatened to rip me to pieces. I'll be damned if I let him leave, I thought and so I pulled. I pulled and let my instinct take over, I let all coherent and rational thoughts go out of the proverbial window as our lips met.

There was no way I could have predicted what would happen next.

Stein's P.O.V

The feeling of soft lips resting on my skin made me light-headed, they burnt but, oh, the sensation was splendid. Her touch was tentative yet determined and I felt my hands cradle her waist without any thought from myself. I moved my lips against hers, hearing a slight squeak of surprise at my participation; I was pulled further towards her as her tongue lightly caressed my lower lip, shyly asking for entrance which I granted after a quick nip of her lip that sent a fresh set of shudders through her slender frame.

After a moment my lungs screamed for oxygen and I pulled away, breathing heavy, cool air passing over Maka's reddened, moistened mouth. And at that moment when I looked at her, that innocence on her face, my brain began to work again; screaming at me for tasting that forbidden fruit and warning me of the danger we would both be in should anyone find out.

With that thought my hands wrenched my labcoat free and my legs carried me as far away as possible, somewhere I could be alone and try to forget all that had transpired between my student and I.

But the taste of the forbidden fruit is not so easy to forget.


	4. Stein Has An Epiphany?

To Heal The Soul - Chapter 4

Stein's P.O.V.

It's been three days. Three madness-riddled days since ... Well, since the kiss. 72 hours spent locked away in my lab, in my sanctum sanctorum, trying to forget. I'd avoided classes and infirmary duty, claimed I was ill and lied through my teeth to stay away from her.

My frenzied attempts to occupy myself have led to failed experiments and cuts that require more stitches than I already had. With nothing more to do, I decided to tend to my wounds; the antiseptic stinging as I began to thread the hooked needle with trembling hands. I haven't slept since that day; the look of betrayal on Maka's face seemed imprinted on the backs of my eyelids.

I failed to push through the eye for the seventh time before dropping the suture onto the metal gurney in exasperation. My mind was so tired I almost missed the three light knocks upon my front door - almost. My legs stung as I hobbled to pull the heavy steel door open, my arms aching and my neck creaked as I turned to look at the person disturbing my first aid.

Shit.

Maka.

I tried thinking of an excuse to shut the door and hide in the shadows. However, she beat me to it.

"Professor? What's wrong? What happened to you?" Concern flooded her face and voice as my legs began to shake from the pain. My teeth gritted as the pain spread through my nerves like wildfire, a wave of excruciating agony washing over me as I tried to stay upright. I could feel the saline run from my open wounds, wounds I had yet to close up.

"Experiments." My body swayed slightly from the effort of standing.

"What can I do, Professor?" Her tiny hands bracing my elbows as she led me inside, walking me towards the lab and the precious supplies. I sighed heavily as I was placed in my computer chair by my student. My beautiful, clever little student. The delirium of the pain had completely addled my mind and clouded my judgement. I let my eyes wander over her lithe figure, her nimble fingers quickly threading the nylon through the minute eye of the needle before she looked at me, asking me what she should do next.

"Thread the nylon through both sides of the wound and tie both ends together. Cut the thread and continue up the gash." Maka's hand moved towards my arms as I began to wonder what it was that I had forgotten, the needle piercing my skin and a jolt of pain rushed up my arm. Anaesthetic. Of course.

"Wait. Wait a second, I forgot the anaesthetic." My fingers curling round the syringe as I spoke, pushing the sharp point past the epidermis and pressing the plunger to sink the drug into my bloodstream; the relief relaxing the muscles throughout my frame. Sighing once again, I nodded for her to continue, the scratch of the needle outweighed by the lull of the drugs and the feeling of her soft skin on mine.

Before long she had worked her way up both of my arms and was snipping the last stitch, the tips of her fingers, slightly calloused from the act of wielding her scythe partner, began to trace over fully healed scars that were adorned with my signature patchwork design. At once I felt disgusted at myself, I wasn't anyone she could care for or love.

I watched her face light up and crease in awe and wonder. Her breath hitch ever so slightly as she grazed a nail over my biceps, goosebumps rose up from the surface of my skin as I felt the blood rush to my usually pale cheeks, flushing my complexion a slight pink.

I became of brush my fingertips over her skin. Revelling in the fact that she didn't flinch away, or protest. Her fingers moved over my shoulder and my clavicle to rest just over my heart. The pulse erratic as I tried to regain composure.

"It was me wasn't it? The reason why you haven't been taking class?" She bowed her head and I could sense that her eyes wer closed; her soul feeling ashamed and wrong. "It's about the infirmary, what happened there. I'm sorry for whatever I've caused. I'm so sorry." Her voice broke on that last sentenceand with it my heart broke. It wasn't her fault, it was mine. I refused to let go, I pushed her further and here she was comforting me. I hung my head in disgust.

I couldn't ever be anyone she could love.

I mean I'm her teacher. I'm trusted to keep her safe and teach her, not take advantage like I did.

I felt my hands curl around her yellow tank top as I leant forwards, resting my head on her shoulder as I tried to make sense of what this feeling was. I wanted to be near her, to protect her and hold her, but this couldn't be love. Not between a pupil and a tutor. My mond is telling me that was just wrong.

My body told me this felt so right and I have never been more confused in my life. It wasn't something I could bottle and test and record. And that was what terrified me, the not knowing.

"You have nothing to apologise for. Nothing at all." I spoke as I pulled myself together and from the crook of her neck where her pulse jumped at the sound of my voice. Confusion rippled through her soul wavelength and gave a weak smile.

"It's my fault, not yours. Shh now. Just accept it, for me?" I hushed her unspoken apology away when she opened her mouth to speak. She nodded, mouth set in that determined way she had, her pigtails bouncing with each shake of her head. Then she turned to leave. I watched her walk and open the front door before calling to her.

"Maka?" She turned. "Thank you."

And with that, she left.


	5. Maka's Downfall?

Maka's P.O.V.

I was shaken to the very core of my being, my soul wavelength trembling with it. He was so torn up, so broken because of me.

Once again it was my fault. Someone got hurt because of what I did. My thoughts turned on me with disgust, screaming that I was a petulant, immature child.

I am.

Screeching that I was impulsive and hazardous.

I am.

Bellowing that I was someone who ruined everyone else with no regards for the consequences.

I am.

Thundering that I was a worthless little girl, spineless and needy, that no-one would ever love, or care for.

... I am.

That last statement pounded around my ears, crashing into my brain until there was nothing else and I curled up, in the middle of the street I had been walking down and cried.

I cried until there was nothing left in me.

No tears.

No anger.

No sadness.

No pain.

No happiness.

No fear.

No joy.

No energy.

No hope.

No love.

I was completely numb, totally devoid of every emotion, every aspect that kept a human soul, normal human, Meister or Weapon, intact.

I let everything, every shackle and bond, every dream and nightmare float off into the sky as I sank further into the ground, the cold concrete like the bottom of a tomb as I wished myself away.

I was never special to anyone, never will be. I won't ever be anyone's someone, a person in their life they are proud of, they rely on, they love. I know people tell me all the time that I am, but I know they are just pretty lies, wrapped up neatly with a bow, but lies all the same and I can't stand it anymore. My entire existence screams out in frustration and agony every time I'm lied to like that; as if they don't know that I will see through this veil of dishonesty that they put between themselves and me.

The rain lashes my face as I sit and mourn the loss of everything, mixing with my tears and washing them away as I feel my soul start to split, tearing without the basic emotions that for so long kept me just on the edge without plummeting into this dark abyss that I now belong to.

Soon, I'm just huddled into myself, allowing the shadows to fall and shroud me in their bitter blackness, the cold of the concrete seeping into my skin, freezing my blood. I can no longer distinguish the sights and sounds around me, scents mingling as my skin itches with the lack of heat, water flowing down me like I'm a statue that no-one pays attention to.

Soon the light fades.

Then it reappears.

I'm still huddled in the tiny space I occupy on this planet. I'm still wishing to disappear, to cease existing. Maybe people will be happier that way. Maybe life will be so much better for them. And my heart breaks again at the thought that m very existence is causing him pain; that without me he'd be better off. And it just proves, once again, that I mean nothing to anyone. Not even those I hold most dear to me.


End file.
